Of time and tides
by likingthistoomuch
Summary: AU. Cruise ship dancer Molly and Undercover Sherlock...errr, yup.


"Molly, isn't that your dancing mate?"

Looking up from the delicious pasta she was having, Molly squinted out into the sun. And then turned to glare at Tina.

"He isn't my mate! He just wants to practice dancing; god knows he doesn't need to be taught any moves."

"He's pure sin, if you ask me."

Molly agreed wholeheartedly. Scott Haiden looked ravishing in white linen pants and a loose blue and white striped shirt, his blue green eyes covered with sunglasses. As he moved out of site, Molly and Tina sighed deeply and then giggled, the food almost forgotten.

Scott had approached her after her troupe's first performance, requesting personal dancing sessions. Since it was one of the services offered on the Mediterranean cruise, she had shown no hesitation in accepting the job. It definitely meant a certain bonus at the end of the month in her bank account.

But as was proved on day one itself, he needed no lessons. He was almost as adept at ballroom dancing as Molly, just needing some practice, as she clearly told him. So instead of teaching, she was spending time actually dancing with him.

He interacted with her entire troupe easily, being very curious about their dance backgrounds and future hopes. He was a charmer and he had befriended them all in no time.

Personally, she was having a tough time handling those beautiful eyes, those luscious curls, and that body that knew how to groove. And the worst thing was that he knew it, as his dimpled smiles conveyed.

It was at the end of one of their dance sessions and she had been wiping the place down after he'd left. The door suddenly opened with a bang, and he stalked up to her looking like a storm, before grabbing her and snogging the living daylights out of her. He seemed embarrassed after that and had disappeared immediately, even missing next day's dance session.

He resumed their session with an apology for his behaviour, but it ended the same way, him snogging her against the studio wall, this time she being a wilful partner from the start. He didn't run away this time, instead resting his forehead against her's and inviting her for breakfast the next morning, when guests were allowed to invite the ship's employees.

She knew she was flirting with disaster. If the management ever discovered her actions, she could get fired. So she told him during breakfast that he would have to continue his sessions with another dancer. He had become very quiet and had simply nodded his understanding. Though her heart sank, she had left the tea room as quickly as possible.

It was her day off and she had been mooching in her tiny cabin in old sweats, hair tied haphazardly in a bun and wearing her specs, pretending to read while actually going over and over her time Scott when there was a knock on her door. Tina came rushing in, her face lit with a devilish smile as she led a very determined looking Scott in and then left immediately.

It had not ended well; or rather it ended too well. He had kissed her, had conveyed his frustration at his inability to stay away from her, had looked almost angry with himself. And then had kissed her again. And things just progressed from there. Later on lying in his arms, they had spent the afternoon talking about a myriad of topics. He seemed pleasantly surprised to find that she was very well read.

They had continued their trysts, meeting in various places across the ship. He spent much time with her troupe, always in the open and having loads of conversations. He seemed to spend almost all his time with them. She should have realised there was something abnormal with this behaviour but her eyes and mind were clouded over with passion.

She dreaded the end of his tour, their relationship still not defined. And then her dread turned out to be very real indeed.

They all stood aside as the police led the handcuffed man away, who had been a part of their troupe and whose eyes threw daggers at Molly. She sighed with relief when he was finally off the boat, not realising she had been holding her breath. He had been accused of murder and had been hiding away on cruise ships.

Her eyes then went up to the tall, dark haired man standing on the dock, talking with the police and the ship's captain. They seemed to be in deep discussion, till the cruise liner's bell boy came up with what seemed like the man's luggage. Shaking hands with the captain, Scott then left with the police, sparing no look behind.

There were repercussions, and they were to be expected. Yes, Molly had in a way helped catch a murderer but that was no excuse. She had signed a clause when she joined the cruise liner's dancing troupe that _specified_ on a professional distance to be maintained with all guests. And the CCTV camera footage had shown her escaping into unoccupied guest rooms, the man always staying just out of focus, like he knew exactly where the cameras were located.

The Captain was apologetic but he had to let her go. So the very next day, at the very next port, Molly was signed off the ship, her suitcase and the bundled bedsheet containing all her worldly belongings. As she checked into the local traveller's hostel, she checked her options.

Returning to England seemed to be the most sensible thing to do but frankly she couldn't afford it. And the warm climes of Spain suited her. As all roads led to New-ville, she decided to hang back, her visa giving her the requisite opportunities.

It wasn't easy. She was well versed with the language but the going was tough. She had found jobs in the tourist season, but that was now slowly winding down. And she could see a tough winter ahead.

She cursed Scott Haiden at times like these, and more. She would have been on the cruise now, sailing in warm waters, doing what she loved, with the storms being her biggest worry. Of course she had tried to get a new job as a dancer but had been unsuccessful.

It seemed more and more that winter would be spent in her grandmother's cottage in England, something she wasn't looking forward to. It was an old, small and draughty place. But she would have a cover over her head and that was saying something.

So it was with a heavy heart and a light bank balance that she landed in London and then trudged up to the countryside.

And lady luck shone on her after what seemed like a lifetime.

Spending winter and specially Christmas in the rural surroundings seemed to be the new fad, especially for tourist from the warmer Asian countries. So she found a way to earn her keep, teaching tourists ballroom dancing, as a means to spend the bone chilling days indoors.

Thank you Downton Abbey for creating majestic illusions of English winters, she said in her prayers each night.

Getting settled also gave her the mental space to finally think about her summer days on the cruise, where she had fallen swift and hard for the guest with brilliant eyes and killer dance moves. When she had thrown caution to the wind and had indulged her heart for once.

Looking back, she almost laughed at how gullible she had been. Someone as dashing, rich and brilliant as Scott Haiden wouldn't spare her a second glance and she had gone ahead and done exactly what she warned the new dancers against. Charming gentlemen were to be indulged but from a distance. Because once their holiday was over, so would the romance.

Though in Molly's case, it turned out that Scott wasn't on a holiday at all. And he wasn't even _Scott_. He had been the famous English detective, Sherlock Holmes, undercover. She had been away from England long enough to be unaware of his almost celebrity like status.

She had been shocked, when she saw his photo and name in the papers, his latest case making headlines. His scowling face and hard eyes resembled nothing like the man who had charmed his way around her heart. Whose kisses had soothed her very soul, whose embrace had actually felt like home. With whom she had spent hours talking and discussing things, when he had made her feel smart and important and _wanted_.

She hated him most for taking that away from her, for making it difficult for her to trust anyone again. And she couldn't move on unless she learned how to do that.

But life went on and there were bills to pay. After indulging herself through the winter, Molly decided to make one more attempt at getting a job on the cruise liners. There were a few opportunities she had been informed of by her friends still sailing, so she found herself in London, auditioning.

Leaving after what looked like a promising interview, she was walking down the road when she heard a commotion behind her.

A young man, panic on his face, was pushing people aside and running straight at her, being followed by someone. She stood with her back to the wall as he rushed by, followed by two men, one of them in a flowing coat who looked oddly familiar. They disappeared around the corner and shortly the sound of police sirens sounded not far from where she was still standing.

" _Sherlock Holmes!_ … that was Sherlock Holmes…in _action…_ oh I can't wait to tell my friends about this." Chirped a young boy nearby.

Molly didn't even realise that she had started walking in the opposite direction, as fast as her legs could carry her without actually running. She came to a roadside café and collapsed in an empty chair. She realised she was shaking as she tried to drink a coffee she didn't even remember ordering.

Holding her head in her hands, she took a deep breath, trying to calm her frazzled nerves. Of all the things to happen on her first visit to London in ages, she had almost run into Sherlock, literally. She had told herself that time had somewhat healed her broken heart, but accepted it as a blatant lie.

She had to leave London, immediately. It was necessary for her sanity.

She was so intent on finding the details on her phone of the next bus home that she failed to notice a shadow fall on her, almost jumping out of her skin when another chair at her table was pulled and Sherlock Holmes sat down.

"This is a surprise!", the deep voice drawled, slightly out of breath.

She stared at him for a moment, temporarily losing all her mental faculties then got up abruptly, simultaneously trying to find change in her purse to cover her tab. He waited till she dropped the money and then held her hand.

"Molly, five minutes. That's all I ask," his eyes beseeched her.

Taking a steadying breath, she tore her eyes away from those magical orbs but was unable to free her hand from his grip.

"Let go of my hand." She hated how tremulous her words sounded.

He let go immediately, standing in front of her, all his haughty demeanour gone, looking extremely nervous.

"Sherlock?"

They were now joined by the man she had seen running with Sherlock.

"Molly, this is John Watson. John, Molly Hooper."

The new man, John, looked at Sherlock as if he had sprouted another head. "Finally learning manners, are we?" Shaking his head slightly, he turned to Molly, and greeted her. Noticing her nervous demeanour, he immediately growled at Sherlock. "What have you done now?"

Molly involuntarily giggled at this. Furious with herself for being weak, she tried to walk away, but was stopped by John.

"Molly, whatever this tool did, let me apologise. It's part of my job."

She just shook her head. What could she respond to that anyways?

Sidestepping them both quickly, she literally ran away. Controlling herself during the journey home, she finally collapsed on her bed in her tiny cottage, letting it all out. She had refused to mull over her time with him, refused to cry or even think about him. But meeting him again had shaken her up; she was no longer able to rein in emotions. Crying herself to sleep that night and then again the next day, Molly felt exhausted.

She realised belatedly that she had missed two more interviews in her rush to leave London. Damn Sherlock Holmes! He had messed her life once and as she attempted to put things in order, his presence mucked things up again.

Praying that she would get a call from either of the two interviews she had given, Molly tried to busy herself around her place. An attempt that didn't last long as someone rang her bell.

It was her neighbour, Mrs Moore, with her favourite casserole, though for a minute she was worried it would be Sherlock. The old bird was a gift, always noticing when Molly's moods were low and trying to make her feel better with food.

"You need to eat more dear, you are just too thin."

"I will Mrs Moore, this smells delicious."

"Oh I forgot the scones and cream I made, let me go and get them too."

Ignoring Molly's protests, the old woman left to get the food herself.

As her doorbell rang again, she opened it, smiling in expectation.

Her face fell as she saw the man standing in front of her. She was still staring at him when Mrs Moore returned, stopping to look at Sherlock.

"Oh it's you!" Addressing Molly's confused look, she explained. "He is staying at the inn; I have been meeting him the last two nights."

Turning towards him, Mrs Moore asked, "So have you started to make amends, as you wanted?"

"I hope so," he answered, eyes not wavering off Molly's face.

Watching them both, the old woman got her cue, placing the scones on the table by the door and walking away.

Finally finding her voice, Molly inquired, "You want to make amends? For making a fool of me or for getting me fired?"

"For being a coward."

Molly blinked, not sure what his answer meant.

"Oh come inside, I don't want to be the source for any more gossip."

Sitting across from him in her tiny living room, Molly waited for him to speak.

He opened his mouth and shut it several times, making so many false starts that finally Molly spat out. "For the love of God, speak up. Why are you here? What do you want?"

He stared at her as he replied. "You!"

She paused before responding eloquently, "Huh?"

"I said I want _you_."

She laughed out loud. And then she laughed some more of that humourless laugh, before sobering down.

"You honestly expect me to believe that? You used me; you didn't even turn back once. I lost my job, it was something I loved doing. I have struggled ever since and now that I try to work things out, you appear again."

"It was a…new feeling. I had to get away," he said in a low voice addressing her floor.

"What? …You are not making any sense."

He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Molly, I am a cold and devious man. I hold reason and facts dear above everything else and I scorn emotions. I have lived by these edicts all my life. And yet..."

He stood up, approached her slowly, like she was a deer who would scamper away. "And yet, you made me forget all that. You, with your doe eyes, warm smiles and kind gestures. With your hidden intelligence, deft feet and frankly awful dress sense, and I don't mean your costumes. You just overwhelmed me. And here I thought _I_ was supposed to be the one fooling you…You stole my heart and I didn't even notice it."

She had stood up sometime during his speech, staring at him.

"Thief," he accused her softly.

He was close enough that she could see the shades of blue and green in those lovely eyes.

"I don't believe you," Molly whispered.

"And I don't blame you. But when I thought I saw you while chasing that man, and caught a whiff of your perfume… I backtracked like a mad man, trying to find you. I almost gave up but there you were, sitting right at my doorstep. Times like these John tries to make a case for fate…it's all drivel of course."

They stood looking at each other, the atmosphere in the room changing.

"Why _now_? After all this time -"she began, but he cut her off.

"I didn't ignore you, I couldn't do it. I almost flew to Spain multiple times…and then when you came back…staying away has taken almost everything I've had." His face was sincere, his eyes pleading.

"Then why?" she questioned again.

"Because I have gone through life imagining myself infallible. And acknowledging my feelings would mean accepting I have a weakness."

She tried to make sense of what he was saying. Even just understanding the words was proving to be tough. "So what changed now?"

"I just…saw you. I wasn't even sure it _was_ you, but the recall was so vivid, I couldn't breathe. And then there you were, having coffee and looking thoroughly lost. It suddenly felt all wrong and then all right! You in front of me, with me…that is _right_!"

Molly sat down, confusion, anger and righteousness battling in her head. "It's been almost ten months Sherlock-"

"Nine months, and 17 days… till London happened."

"Yeah, ok. But it has been nine months 17 days of absolute, total silence. I am still having a hard time believing a word you said. If I hadn't travelled to London, you wouldn't have been standing here at all-"

"If I hadn't taken the case, you wouldn't have met me at all. If your team mate hadn't committed murder, there wouldn't have been a _case_ at all! Ifs and buts can drive you mad Molly. But the murder _did_ happen, I _did_ take the case and I _did_ meet you… And I did fall in love with you. Irrevocably! I know I screwed up royally but I just didn't know how to deal with all these feelings!"

He had ended up sitting down, his head in his hands, presenting a pathetic picture.

"What do you want me to do Sherlock?" she asked feeling bone tired.

"I just want to prove to you, that I am no longer a coward. I will make mistakes, but I will learn from them."

He got up and kneeled before her, holding her hands in his. "I just need you to believe that these past nine months and 17 days were a hell for me too. I almost followed you in London, but John insisted you needed the space. But I couldn't stay away for more than three days." Pressing her hands gently, he pleaded, "I promise Molly, I will make it up to you, in any way I can. Please, just give me one chance. "

Looking at his face, she nodded timidly. She knew she was taking a chance, but at that moment the only thing she had to lose, was what he was offering her.

He hugged her tightly, whispering apologies and promises to make up for his mistakes…promises that she knew he would fulfil as they danced again in that huge hall where they had first met. But this time in front of their friends and family, with whistles and applause the only repercussions of their kiss. The groom owed his bride that much.


End file.
